


Inner Circle

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:39:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: Saren has more friends and people who give a shit about his well-being than he gives himself credit for.A collection of ficlets showcasing the various friends and non-hated acquaintances of Saren Arterius.





	1. Nihlus

Saren was not the kind of person who liked to be awake before the last quarter of the morning. He had done so during his time in the turian military, because it was required of him, but the moment the councilor had confirmed to him that Spectres could make their own schedules and sleep whenever they damn well pleased, he'd deleted his dawn alarm setting with probably slightly unhealthy delight.

This morning, however, brought the smell of sizzling meat, the expensive kind from Triginta Petra that fell apart with the barest touch of a knife and made even the most hardcore of isolationists agree that colonizing other planets had had its payoffs, so he was willing to make an exception.

Nihlus was cracking eggs into a bowl when he entered the kitchen, a neat little pile of filets on a plate beside him. "You'll never guess what I was given as a thank-you for doing my job this past mission," he mused without looking up. "Just came in the mail this morning."

Saren wandered over to inspect the filets, mandibles fluttering wildly at the heavenly smell wafting off them. "I should hope you're sharing."

"No, I'm going to wave the plate around under your nose and then eat all of them in front of you while maintaining direct eye contact." Nihlus snorted. "Of course I'm sharing. This isn't even all of it, there's more in the fridge. I was going to invite Avitus and a few others over for dinner, let them try some, too."

Saren raised a brow plate and drifted away to get a mug for kava. "Implying you haven't yet?"

"Well, the idea hit me when I was already cooking, and typing is hard when your fingers are covered in meat and grease." He took a moment to look at his bowl. "And raw egg, now. Can you grab me a rag?"

Saren obliged, pulling a washrag out of the drawer and tossing it to him before going back to hunting for his favorite mug. "So I get exclusive privileges. My favorite kind."

"You live with me, you're my best friend, and you think whatever leftovers don't smell  _too_  old is a perfectly acceptable breakfast. Of course I'm sharing." Nihlus shook his head. "Besides, we're apart an awful lot. Consider it a little celebration that we're in the same room again."

Saren turned to raise a brow plate at him. "I've been home for a week now, and you've been here all month."

Nihlus rolled his eyes and reached over to place one talon against Saren's maxillary plates. "You know what I mean," he said, gently moving his hand to make Saren's head rotate back and forth. "Let me do something nice for you. I love you and appreciate getting to spend time with you. Stop fussing and accept my offering of expensive meat and cheap eggs."

In spite of himself, Saren's mandibles lifted, and he pulled away with a low, affectionate note threading through his subvocals. "If you insist. But only if we go grocery shopping later. If we're going to have guests over, we can't serve good meat with cheap everything else. It's rude."

Nihlus returned the smile and went back to his bowl of eggs. "Deal."


	2. Avitus

It was either very late or very early when a knock came at the door, depending on whether or not you'd already gone to bed. Saren had not.

When he opened the door, Avitus nearly fell over on top of him, and he staggered back a step as he caught him. He cursed, then did his best to get under his dense, unbalanced friend.

As he slid under, something wet and sticky and very, very familiar dripped onto his head.

With a yelp, he retreated. "Avitus, spirits, what _happened?"_  he demanded, opting to instead put a hand on each of his friend's shoulders to help steady him.

Avitus groaned and lifted his head, putting his hands on Saren's elbows for balance. His left brow plate had been split open, and that eye was squeezed shut against the blood trickling down from it. "You should see the other guy."

"I should _hope_  so," Saren groused. "You're a _Spectre._  Come on, into the kitchen, we'll get that cleaned up."

Avitus obligingly let him lead him inside and seat him at the kitchen table. Saren wet a rag for him to wipe the blood off his face, then turned away to hunt for the first aid kit once he was sure Avitus wasn't about to keel over. "So what _happened?"_  he asked again, rummaging below the sink. "You typically don't get into bar fights. Not until you're _excessively_  drunk, anyway, and you only smell modestly intoxicated."

Avitus grumbled. "Been helping C-Sec's homicide division, they're always low on claws. Went for some drinks to forget some of the shit I saw. It was going alright, nobody wants to bother _me,_  then..."

Saren waited for him to continue. When he didn't, he glanced over, flicking a mandible. "Then?"

Avitus eyed him, then groaned and looked away. "It's stupid. Some turian wannabe tough guy a couple seats down was talking shit about you, trying to impress his wannabe friends, so I decked him."

Saren blinked, slowly retracting his arm with the kit in hand. "Just like that? I'm surprised, Avitus."

"Well, no, not just like that," Avitus amended, pulling the rag away from his face to check the bleeding. "I tried calling him on his shit first. Told him if he was so tough he could beat _you_  up, how come the Council didn't know him from three telal in a suit."

Saren raised a brow plate and got to his feet. "Is that what he was saying?" he mused.

"Yeah, bunch of shit like that. How it'd be easy, 'cause you're so small. Said all he'd have to do is disable your biotics, and it'd be like beating up a five-year-old." Avitus snorted. "I told him good luck with that, and let me know how he liked intensive care."

Saren flicked a mandible in amusement, carrying the kit over to the table and setting it down. "So you got into an argument about me that turned into a fight. I'm touched, Avitus."

Avitus snorted. "Don't be, it was only some punk who thought he was special 'cause he beat a batarian who was too drunk to stay upright."

Saren hummed noncommittally and pulled out a small pouch of medi-gel. "This may sting. Hold still."

Avitus obligingly went still as stone while Saren opened the pouch and started dabbing the gel over the wound. He worked in silence, carefully sealing a protective bandage over the crack and the gel to prevent any further damage while it healed, then inspected his handiwork, nodded to himself, and went to wash his hands. "Done."

"Thanks." Avitus pulled up his omni-tool to check the end result in the mirror app. "Sorry for barging in at this hour, but my place is farther away, and I figured you'd still be up to help."

Saren nodded, using his wrist to turn the faucet on. "Of course. No trouble."

Silence fell again, broken only by running water as Saren scrubbed the leftover medi-gel off his hands. The gel was laced with a numbing agent, and he knew from experience that letting it sit too long could lead to uncomfortable patches of unresponsive nerves the next morning.

Finally, he turned off the water and went to dry his hands. "Out of curiosity, what _did_  you do to the boy?" he mused, glancing back over at Avitus, who by now was putting the first aid kit back together.

"Hmm? Oh." Avitus fluttered his mandibles, and his subvocals hummed _modest-embarrassed_  as he said, "Smashed him into the bar counter, then dropped him on the floor. I figured he'd be smart enough to take the hint, so I went to leave, but he went after me and got this off." He gestured to his injury. "So I knocked him flat on his ass and slammed his head into the floor a few times to get the message across. Surprised the bouncer didn't come over, tell you the truth. He wasn't looking too hot."

"You're a known Spectre, Avitus. _I_  would be hesitant to get involved, in their place."

"Fair, I guess." Avitus shook his head and turned to watch him cross the kitchen to the fridge. "I left after that. I don't _think_  the moron needed the hospital. Could you imagine having to walk into the ER and say you picked a fight with a Spectre?"

Saren allowed himself a wry smile as he pulled two bottles of horosk out of the fridge and offered one to Avitus. "You're a good friend, Avitus, truly."

Avitus flared one mandible and accepted the booze. "I think you give me too much credit, but hey, if you say so."


	3. Sparatus

Saren made it a point to only drop by to talk to the councilor in the last couple hours of the work week. The embassy was quieter, more relaxed as the various diplomats wound down and got ready for a couple days of doing as little work as possible. At least a quarter usually took off early, already finished with whatever couldn't wait until after the weekend.

Councilor Sparatus was not one of those. As Saren had learned to expect, when he walked in the old cob was still pacing around his office, muttering to himself about some committee proposal or another and almost aggressively shuffling datapads. For a grandfather of two, he certainly didn't have the energy of one. Saren couldn't remember him ever being able to stay perfectly still. Always pacing or fidgeting or doing _something_  with his hands.

Saren waited by the door, knowing Ierian would have to notice him eventually. It didn't take long. The councilor turned again in his pacing, and must have caught a glimpse of him in his peripherals, because he glanced up and flicked one mandible. "Ah, Saren, there you are. I _told_  Orinia you'd show up, never believes me these days..." He shook his head, then motioned for Saren to come in as he turned and headed back to his desk. "I had something for you, request from Fedorian, where _is_  it..."

Saren raised one brow plate and folded his arms across his chest. "A request from Fedorian, and you say to come in _at my leisure._  Does he need help with his groceries, or something?"

Ierian snorted, sorting through the stack of datapads on his desk. "No, nothing _that_ mundane. But, truth be told, I didn't think it worth a proper mission. Fedorian thinks you're finishing up another assignment and will be along after you're done, just to justify the wait."

Saren tilted his head to one side, then shook it and wandered closer. "Did the primarch ask for me, specifically?"

"Unfortunately, he was adamant. Only a visit to Menae so some generals can see you, nothing really worth losing sleep over, in my opinion. Ah, here it is."

He pulled a datapad out from behind his terminal and handed it to Saren. "Ironically, I suspect I put it there so I wouldn't lose it. Call Fedorian when you're on your way, _not_  from your kitchen table. I got a very terse call this morning about what was taking you so long."

Saren lifted one mandible as he glanced over Fedorian's message, picturing Ierian trying to lie to the primarch's face about a made-up assignment. "Thank you for covering for me, sir."

Ierian shook his head. "No trouble at all. You barely get enough off time as it is." He eyed Saren for a moment, then added, "Speaking of, I think you should try to get a decent night's sleep before you leave. You look dead on your feet."

Saren snorted and slipped the datapad into his cloak. "That's just how my face looks, sir."

"I have three children, Saren. I sincerely doubt that." He shook his head again, then cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. "Anyway, feel free to stop by for dinner later, if you'd like. Teia has been asking after you again, and, well, it's easier to _show_  her you're alright than it is to try to tell her."

Saren nodded. The councilor's wife was a notorious broody, known for mothering as many of her husband's subordinates as would let her. Much to Saren's chagrin, she'd taken a particular shine to _him._  She was a kind-hearted little old hen, but he didn't need her fussing. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

Ierian nodded, and offered a hand. As Saren shook it, he told him, "Get some sleep, eat well, and _then_  go to Menae. We worry about you, you know."

Saren shook his head. Once a parent... "I will."


	4. Abrudas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "valis" is my name for lt abrudas, desolas's right hand for the shanxi arc of m.e.: evolution before she mysteriously disappeared to be replaced with saren (no, really, they never explain where she went or why she's been replaced with saren beyond that people know who saren is, she's just Gone after shanxi without so much as a clue to her fate). not even god can tell me she's dead

Cipritine West Interstellar saw most of its traffic in the daylight hours. Arriving shortly after midnight meant it was blissfully quiet as Saren stepped out of his ship, with what few people _were_  waiting around keeping to themselves and spaced generously apart. Nobody wanted to be social this time of night.

Valis was waiting for him, as promised, leaning against a railing. She raised her cane in the air to get his attention, then put it back down and hauled herself upright as he ambled over. "You look like shit," she told him cheerfully.

Saren allowed a small, amused upward tilt of his mandibles. If any one person in the galaxy was qualified to make that assessment, he reasoned, it was her. His brother's best friend and right hand on Shanxi, she had been gravely injured in the line of duty when the cave they'd found that _thing_  in had collapsed from the digging done to get it inside in the first place. In retrospect, it had probably saved her life. The doctors had managed to reconstruct a large portion, but she'd gradually grown afraid of going under and never waking back up, so the surgeries had been halted with her jaw a sliver askew, one mandible less maneuverable than the other, and her crushed left leg only seven-eighths rebuilt. The left side of her head, skin and mandible and plating alike, bore scars from both the rock tearing her open and the surgeries putting her back together. Her cowl had its own scars showing where new bone matrix and plate had had to be inserted to fix a split, and her leg was more crag than plate. Saren couldn't think of a single turian who looked _worse._

She clapped him on the back once he was close enough, light enough that he wouldn't stumble. "Been a while, kid," she teased, subvocals wobbly but strong as she thrummed _affectionate-happy-welcoming._  "You avoiding me, or something?"

He fluttered one mandible. "I've been busy," he said with apologetic subvocals. "How have you been?"

"Eh, same old, same old," she mused, leaning back against the railing. "Got a new physical therapist."

"Did the last one run away screaming?" Saren teased, folding his arms.

She barked a laugh. "I wish. Nah, just got a shinier position elsewhere. No loss, I hated her anyway. Kept trying to convince me to go back under the knife. Didn't like it much when I pointed out that'd leave her out of a job."

Saren snorted, and Valis cracked a wry grin. "So, what about you? How're the dumbass duo, what brings you back to Cipritine?"

He raised one brow plate, then shook his head. "I'm fine, Nihlus and Avitus are well, and I have work to do."

"Are you ever specific?" she asked dryly.

He winked, and she snorted. "Shoulda known. How long you gonna be here?"

"A few days, a couple weeks at most. Depends how far this lead takes me."

She nodded sagely. "Fair enough. Where you staying?"

He eyed her warily. "My ship."

She raised a brow plate, and he sighed. "Your guest room?"

"Correct." She grinned and slung an arm around his shoulders. "C'mon, go get your shit."

He groaned and shook her off, but there was no malice in it. With her family's visits few and far between, and no Desolas to waste time yelling about sports and food and idiots with, Valis was lonely and bored, and Saren showing up in her neck of the woods always meant a chance for some company.

And, well, he'd be lying if he claimed he didn't appreciate hers, too.


End file.
